


Experiments in Cross-Species Makeouts

by LaughingStones



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Biting, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Fantasy AU, Fingering, Hatesex, Internalized fantasy racism, Intoxicated Sex, M/M, Sirens, Supernatural Creatures, Vampires, Xeno, and related body issues, brief consent fails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones
Summary: Alex is well aware that Chuck doesn't like him. That's fine, he doesn't like Chuck either! His persistent crush on Chuck's brain totally doesn't count.Unfortunately, whenever he comes down to Motorcity to visit, Chuck gets in his face. Alex isn't about to meekly give in today, and it turns out hate-makeouts with a vampire involve alotof biting. (Alex issonot a fan.)





	Experiments in Cross-Species Makeouts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SplickedyHat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SplickedyHat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Werewolves of Detroit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8365426) by [SpoonerizeSwiftness (SplickedyHat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SplickedyHat/pseuds/SpoonerizeSwiftness). 
  * Inspired by [Live Free](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6322210) by [SplickedyHat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SplickedyHat/pseuds/SplickedyHat). 



> Thanks to Splickedy for inspiring and helping me write this fic, and writing a couple parts of it herself even though it was supposed to be a present for her! Thanks to Roach for the beta! This is dedicated to ToastyHat and Splickedylit for writing Live Free and giving us the delightful jackass Alex Harley.
> 
> [Here's](http://livelivefastfree.tumblr.com/post/163183376991/how-would-live-free-be-different-if-it-was-taking) the post that inspired the fic, and [here's](http://livelivefastfree.tumblr.com/post/168656588586/i-might-be-too-late-for-request-night-but-i-would) a post with Splick's art of siren Alex and vamp Chuck in the middle of makeouts!

Alex is chatting with Mike when Chuck walks in. That's all he's doing, is _chatting_ , there's no reason for the nasty look Chuck gives him, the way he curls his lip to flash too-sharp teeth for a second. Chuck doesn't need a reason, though, he just likes being a complete dick to Alex.

It's obvious from Mike’s cheerful greeting that he didn't notice the look, and Chuck smiles back at him like everything's fine.

“Hey, Mikey, I gotta borrow Harley a minute,” he says.

“Oh, okay, cool!” Mike says. “You guys have fun talking science, I better go get these deliveries done.”

“‘Kay, see you!” Chuck chirps, grabs Alex by the arm in an unyielding grip and drags him out of the room.

By the time they reach the empty rec room and Chuck still hasn't let go, Alex is snarling. “What the fuck, you asshole, let go of me!”

“Oh I'm sorry,” Chuck says, shoving him into the room, “am I bruising your delicate sea foam skin?”

“Oh, fuck you!” Alex says in outrage. “You don't get to lecture me on Deviant Pride and then make fun of my race!”

Chuck pauses a second like he's taken aback or ashamed--hah! As if!--but quickly recovers. “You sound pretty funny talking about pride in your race when you wear an illusion all the time to look human and you still call yourself a ‘deviant’!” he snaps.

“We are deviants,” Alex says impatiently. “We deviate from the norm!”

“The _norm_ doesn't _exist!_ ” Chuck says, stepping closer to loom at him--and _god_ Alex hates the couple inches Chuck has on him. Bastard. “We're not humans with fucking _add-ons_ , okay, that's a lie Kane told us! We're not just different phenotypes, we're completely different _genotypes!_ ”

Alex swallows hard, fists clenching. Sometimes it's hard to remember why he ever admired Chuck to start with, and then the asshole will just say something completely casually that reminds you that he's _smart_ , he _knows_ things, because oh yeah, his brain is fucking massive. It might be less maddening if it had less of a… noticeable effect on Alex. Maybe if he ignores it it'll go away.

“Humans are neither the average nor the ideal!” Chuck is going on. “It's not like we--no, you know what, forget this,” he says, and suddenly his _huge fucking wings_ manifest, mantling at Alex, and it makes him look so much bigger, and his eyes are too dark and his teeth are too sharp and Alex is backing away wide-eyed before he even realizes. That little voice at the back of his head is squeaking in terror about _he's a fucking vampire, run!_ and Alex’s heart is pounding, adrenaline surging through him, and god this is _even less of an ideal time for a boner, thanks!_

Chuck bares his fangs in a vindictive grin at his retreat and Alex stops in a hurry, glaring. “Yeah,” Chuck says. “Watch yourself, asshole. Maybe Mike doesn't notice, but I do.”

“Notice what?” Alex says defensively, and his illusion spell is crafted to mimic what's under it, which means Chuck can see the guilty blush spreading over his cheeks even if there's no human equivalent for the nervous flicking of his ear fins.

Chuck steps towards him again, snarling, his wings unfolding a little behind him even though there's not really room for them in here. Alex’s heart rate spikes again.

“You _know_ what,” Chuck says.

“I don't--I wasn't--” Alex starts, but he does and he was and he can see on Chuck’s face that he knows it. “Fuck you!”

“Using your fucking siren tricks on Mike again,” Chuck growls. “Like he hasn't had enough of that?”

“Like he even notices!” Alex protests. “It doesn't affect him, dude! The only reason my voice worked on him before was the amplifier, you know that! Without it, I could sing my heart out and he'd never even realize,” he finishes bitterly.

“Aw, that's so sad for you,” Chuck says. “If only he still had it on so you could keep mind-raping him!”

“I wasn't the one who--Kane was the one controlling him!”

“You're the one who made it possible,” Chuck snarls in his face. “You're the one who loaned your power to Kane and made the collar and--”

“I said I was sorry!” Alex yells.

“Oh, I guess that fixes everything!” Chuck yells back. “We're all best friends now! Oh wait, except you're still responsible for the sweetest guy in all Detroit getting completely fucked over!”

“I didn't _know!_ ”

“Bullshit, you knew exactly what you were doing--”

“No, not--him, I didn't know _him!_ ” Alex pauses, panting, and says in a lower voice, “I didn't know. What he's really like. I thought he was a lowlife, okay, some kind of criminal, Kane was always saying-- He's wer, they're all rowdy and violent--” Chuck bares fangs at him and Alex stops, skips past that. “He betrayed Deluxe, I thought he was--I thought he deserved it. I didn't… know.”

“ _No one_ deserves to be mind-controlled,” Chuck says.

Alex rolls his eyes. “Anyway, _he's_ forgiven me. _He_ wants to be friends, I'm not gonna stay away from him just for you.”

“No,” Chuck agrees, “not when you could be mooning over him, trying to seduce him with your voice like a coercive dickhead!”

Alex’s face goes hot. “I'm not trying to _seduce_ him!” ...On purpose, anyway. It just happens when he's around Mike. He really likes the guy and he wants Mike to like him, he's being charming and friendly and his voice just _does_ that, goes all sireny without him even noticing most of the time.

“Sure,” Chuck says, and grabs him by the front of his shirt, dragging him in way too close. “Then you won't mind when I tell you to _cut it out_.”

He's in Alex’s face again and it makes Alex so mad that Chuck just won't step off, always coming after him even though he's got to be dying for some intelligent conversation down here and Alex is the smartest guy around, but _no_ , Chuck can't stand that Mike is so friendly with Alex, he has to keep taking it out on Alex all the time-- Realization bursts through Alex like a vengeful sunrise.

“You're just _jealous_ ,” he breathes, baring his (illusory human-flat) teeth in a smug grin.

“I'm fucking _what?_ ” Chuck says, face screwed up in disbelief.

Alex leans in until their faces are inches apart, still grinning. “Jealous,” he purrs. “Mike likes me. You're afraid he might start liking me too much, and that'd be it for your own chances. So much for that little crush you've got.”

“On you? As if,” Chuck sneers, and Alex’s mouth drops open.

“Uh. On--no, on--on _him_ ,” he says.

Chuck goes bright red. “You know what?” he says, voice high and shrill with anger. “ _Fuck_ you!” He shoves Alex away--or tries, except Alex is already grabbing his shoulders and leaning up to mash his mouth desperately against Chuck’s. Chuck growls and kisses back, and for a moment there's a hot, exhilarating tangle of tongues and sharp teeth and Alex is filled with ferocious, gleeful triumph.

Then Chuck bites his lip hard enough to break the skin and Alex yelps and jerks back. “Son of a _bitch!_ ”

Chuck licks his lips smugly. “Tasty,” he says, smirking, and Alex goes breathless with rage and lust.

“You _dick_ ,” he snarls, and lashes out with the power of his voice, commanding, “ _Don't bite me!_ ”

Chuck goes, “ _Unh_ ,” eyes glassy through his bangs, and his wings dematerialize as he sways. Then he shakes himself all over and hisses, fangs bared, eyes blazing. “Don't you _dare_ use your fucking voice on me, you arrogant little bastard! I'll tell Mike and you _know_ the look he'll give you!”

Ugh, Alex does, too, a steady disappointed look that makes the recipient feel just about lower than one of those disgusting mutant rats. “Fine!” he snaps, curling his lip at Chuck. “If you bite me, he'll give you the same look!”

Chuck laughs in his face, spiteful and superior and Alex _hates him so much_. “Oh no,” Chuck says. “You wanna make out with a vamp, fishboy, you get to deal with lovebites. That's just how it works.”

Alex’s jaw drops and he can't decide whether to be more appalled by ‘fishboy’ or-- “ _Lovebites?_ It's still bleeding! Some lovebite!”

“That's because you didn't let me close it for you, smart guy,” Chuck says, and when he leans in Alex just--can't quite get it together to shove him away. He's hypnotized, barely breathing as those fangs come in close, but Chuck doesn't bite him again. He sucks on Alex’s lip, getting a trickle of blood with a little hum of pleasure, and it stops hurting fast, and then it's just--Chuck’s mouth on him, and that's. _Oh god_ not a problem. Alex grabs his upper arms and steps into him, grinding up against his hip, and Chuck snorts, breaking the not-quite-kiss.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, “I can see the biting thing is a real problem for you.”

“Fuck you, that wasn't _biting_ ,” Alex snaps, panting, “it didn't hurt! But the blood-drinking thing is creepy as hell.”

Chuck rolls his eyes. “Right, because your own dentition isn't suggestively fangy and serrated. You and your internalized bigotry.”

Alex’s hips jerk because he's an idiot and his buttons are way too easy to press, especially for a guy with Chuck’s vocabulary, and to cover it he stammers, “Yeah, well, I don't use my teeth like you do!”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Chuck says, ducking to nip Alex’s neck right next to an illusion-hidden gill slit, short of drawing blood but sharp enough to make Alex hiss. “ _Obviously_ ,” Chuck goes on, sneering against his skin. He’s still talking showy and bossy, a lecturer with a slow pupil, and it’s aggravating as hell. “Not every creature with serrated teeth is hemovorous, _Harley._ Haven’t you ever looked at them in the mirror? Or are you too scared of your own reflection?”

“What, my _teeth?_ ” Alex gasps, clawing at his shoulders as Chuck nips again. “Biting and tearing with minimal chewing, judging by the sharp profile.”

“Mm, uh-huh,” Chuck says, deadpan and unimpressed. “Wow, a solid C-minus. Now, make some _deductions,_ smart guy.” And before Alex can even sputter some kind of answer, Chuck bites down, fangs barely missing the edge of that gill slit.

Alex lets out a strangled, outraged yell and punches him in the ribs. Chuck yelps and stumbles back, glaring.

“Ow! Cut it out, you dick!” Chuck snaps, licking Alex’s blood off his lips.

“You first! That fucking hurt!”

“Then you should’ve let me keep drinking, and it'd stop hurting in a second!”

Alex bares his teeth, heart thundering in his ears. He can't pull his eyes away from those long fangs, can't stop imagining Chuck’s face going blank and deadly, fangs ripping, tearing at his throat, the pain growing until everything fades away. Blood smeared across an inhuman snarl the last thing he sees.

“Oh my fucking god, are you serious?” Chuck says in disgust. “You've been coming down here for like two months now--”

“Six weeks,” Alex corrects automatically.

“--And you still haven't figured out that all the shit they tell you about vampires up there isn't true?”

“I don't have to be indoctrinated to not want you biting me!” Alex snaps defensively.

Chuck snorts. “Right, which is definitely why your heart is going like a jackhammer and you're looking all freaked out. I'm not gonna kill you, you dipshit, Mike would be upset, and no one wants to deal with his sad puppy-dog eyes. Come _on_ , you've seen me biting people! How many times have I gone feral so far?!”

Alex takes a deep breath, still watching him warily. “Yeah, but those were your friends,” he points out.

“Mm, yeah, you should think about getting yourself some of those,” Chuck says, edging forward, eyes flicking between Alex’s bleeding neck and his face.

Alex snarls, infuriated, and grabs him, hauls him in and bites his lip, _hard_. He's never drawn blood with his teeth before in his life, but now he is, Chuck’s lip is bleeding and he's kissing Alex fiercely and when he ducks down to suck on the bite on Alex’s neck, Alex licks vampire blood off his lips and it tastes _good_.

“Mm, fuck,” Chuck mumbles against his neck, licks his skin clean and pulls back abruptly, breathing hard. “Oh,” he says, licking his lips. “Weird. Nnh.” Then he reaches out, grabs the front of Alex’s shirt in both hands and fucking _rips it open_.

“What the _fuck?!_ ” Alex says, caught between being flattered Chuck is that desperate to see his body and utterly pissed off. “That was my uniform shirt, you dick!”

“Yeah,” Chuck says, “get that Deluxe crap off, why are you even wearing it down here?” He keeps clawing at it, sharp nails tearing the cloth until Alex jerks away from him and strips the remnants off, glaring.

“It’s _white_ , it's not like it's obvious! And it's mine and I like it,” he says through clenched teeth, and stretches vengefully, watching the way Chuck’s face flushes and his lips part as the muscles of Alex’s torso pull and flex.

“You are such a vain little douche!” Chuck snaps, folding his arms over his still-clothed chest. “I bet none of that's even real, I bet it's all part of your illusion.”

Alex snorts. “Yeah, no,” he says, steps forward, grabs Chuck’s hand and slaps it onto the sculpted ripples of his abs. “I'm a fucking _commander_ , dumbass, illusory musculature wouldn't get me anywhere.”

Chuck snarls and steps into him, shoving his thigh between Alex’s, making him gasp as both Chuck’s hands trace hungrily over his hard stomach and sides, running too-long fingers curiously over the bigger gill slits between his ribs, invisible under the illusion. “You and your fucking selfies, you make me sick,” he hisses, and kisses Alex hard enough to bruise, nails digging into his sides, making his breath come faster.

Alex returns the favor by shoving both hands up Chuck’s shirt, touching as much as he can as Chuck growls into the kiss. Chuck is skinny even for a vampire nerd, bony and angular and objectively speaking not hot at all, Alex knows that, except that this stick-thin physique belongs to the guy who's written some of the most brilliant papers Alex has ever read, and he was daydreaming about making out with that guy for _years_ before he ever met him, and just because he's turned out to be a complete dick doesn't make Alex want this any less, for some dumb reason.

Chuck’s thigh rocks into Alex, pressing against the bulge in his pants, and Alex gasps and moans into the kiss. “Fuck you,” Chuck mumbles, breaking off to nip at the other side of his neck, right over a gill slit this time and Alex scrabbles at his chest.

“Ah! Don't, not there!”

Chuck huffs, scrapes his fangs against Alex’s skin but doesn't bite. “Take the fucking illusion off, then.”

“What? No!”

“You want me biting you right in the gills because I couldn't see them?”

“You can feel them, you don't need to see them!”

Chuck pulls his head back to stare, one hand leaving Alex’s side and raking back his bangs just to give Alex an exasperated look unobstructed. His eyes are so dark a green they're almost black, the whites barely visible slivers at the corners. Blatantly vampiric and creepy.

“What the fuck is your problem? I already know you're a siren, it's not like it's going to come as a shock.”

“I don't care! I'm not taking it off!”

Chuck’s eyes narrow. “Your heart rate’s spiked again. What are you so scared of?”

Alex glares at him. “Stop fucking listening to my heartbeat!”

Chuck rolls his eyes and lets his bangs fall back into place. “Sure, as soon as you stop _breathing_. Now either take it off or explain why you can't. If you can even explain it.”

“I--fuck you! Because I don't look like this!” Alex pulls his hands out from under Chuck’s shirt and flexes them at his sides, feeling the pull of the webbing between his fingers.

“Uh, yeah, because you're not _human_ ,” Chuck says, brushing a hand over the gill slits along Alex’s ribs.

Alex clenches his hands into fists, glaring. “ _Yeah_.”

Chuck tilts his head. “Oh my god. Seriously? That's… pretty sad, Harley.” The scorn in his voice makes Alex bristle. “I thought _I_ had body issues, but you're so scared of not looking like a pretty little human boy you can't even show your real face. I didn't realize you were that much of a coward.”

“You--I'm not a coward!” Alex snarls. He's still hard, but his heart is racing and his stomach is in knots and he hates it. He hates Chuck for pushing this, and he hates that it's making him consider it, and he hates the anxiety that's telling him he _can't, he can't_ let someone see him, and he really, really hates that he's not human.

At least there are no mirrors in here if he does take it off. He won't have to look at himself, and if Chuck doesn't like looking at a monster, well, too bad, and anyway, he's a monster too.

“Looks like it from here,” Chuck says, crossing his arms. “I know you like long words, how’s _internalized xenophobia_ sound?”

“ _Fuck_ you!” Alex snaps, baring his teeth. “ _Fine_ , check it out, you dick!” He raises both hands and gestures, disabling the illusion like he does alone at night before he falls asleep. Then he drops his hands as the human gloss falls away and the webbing between his fingers appears, the tiny patches of scales that litter his too-pale, blue-sheened skin. Now Chuck can see what he's been making out with. See if he's so interested now.

Chuck pulls his bangs back again, sweeps a look up and down him with an incredulous look. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Alex flinches, lips tightening as his stomach twists into a sick knot. “You asked!”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Chuck says, “but after all that I thought you were hiding something, like you were actually ugly or something under there! You're not supposed to be still _hot_ , you fucker!”

Alex stares at him. He'd assume Chuck was messing with him except that he sounds genuinely annoyed, which--what?

“How is this hot?” he demands, waving a hand at himself, heart suddenly beating hard for a whole other reason. “Is this--something you’re _into,_ or something?! Scales, and--and gills and fangs and _fins?_ ”

“Yeah, how about that, you look like a siren!” Chuck says, exasperated, and when Alex opens his mouth to keep arguing he holds up a hand and cuts him off. “No, don't even start with that human-centric internalized prejudice bullshit, it's dumb. If Mike can be hot ‘even though’ he's a wer, you can be hot ‘ _even though_ ’ you're a siren, this isn't complicated stuff. I thought you had some kind of brain in there!”

Alex keeps staring at him for a long, astonished minute before groaning and grabbing him for another kiss, breathless with relief. He's roiling with a bizarre combination of annoyance, pleasure and complete bewilderment, and at first he thinks the fizzing in his hands is more of the same. Then he remembers that his shielding comes down with the illusion and pulls back, staring at Chuck’s arms where he's gripping them. Puzzled intrigue briefly overwhelms the desire to shove Chuck into a wall and grind against him.

“What the--okay, that's your comms,” he realizes, running one hand down Chuck’s forearm, the tingle intensifying as his fingertips reach the site of the implant, then move past, off his shirtsleeve to the bare skin of Chuck’s hand. “And this is your datascreen setup.”

“What are you--?” Chuck says, frowning.

Alex ignores him, sliding one finger down Chuck’s other arm from shoulder to forearm, tracing a fizzing line he can feel running under a layer of skin and muscle. “But what the hell…?” It bulks out just before Chuck’s wrist and he rubs his fingers across the steady buzz, frowning.

Chuck’s mouth drops open. “Holy shit, you can feel bioelectricity,” he says. “Hah! Electroreceptivity, I forgot that was a siren thing!”

“Yeah,” Alex says absently, and finally gets it. “Oh, it's your plasma weapon! This is where the charge is stored, right?”

“Yeah,” Chuck says. “Shit, that is _so cool_.” He leans in with an annoyed sound to give Alex a bitey kiss. “What's your sensitivity range?” he says, pulling back way too soon.

Alex looks at him blankly. “I--I mean I haven't, like, tested it, I keep that shielded pretty much all the time.”

Chuck just stares at him for a moment, then throws up his hands, stepping back and turning away. “Of _course_ you do! Because pretending to be human is _so_ much more important than actually learning what your own innate capabilities are! What was I fucking thinking?”

“ _No_ ,” Alex growls, clenching his fists, “because otherwise I wouldn't be able to work effectively with pretty much any tech, including datascreens, you condescending dick! Maybe you think I lounge around looking good all day, but I do actually have work to do!”

Chuck turns back and sneers at him. “Yeah, you must work up such a sweat flirting with Mike.”

Alex flushes. “I meant up in--shut up!” It's weird standing here under Chuck’s gaze shirtless with his illusion off, makes him feel awkward and way more naked and vulnerable than he would even with all his clothes off so long as the illusion was on. “I don't--I think the electroreception is pretty short range, I can't feel anything when you're over there.”

“Huh,” Chuck says, stepping closer again. “Water’s a much better conduction medium than air, of course, it'd probably get stronger if you and the source of the electricity were at least partly submerged.”

And it's _so stupid_ that Alex’s breath is running shorter now because of the thoughtful tone of voice--this is basic stuff! It's not that impressive! His dick has no excuse to twitch like that! Not even thinking about him and the _source of electricity_ being submerged, him wrapped around Chuck underwater--nope, no, not tempting at all!

He takes a breath, tries to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, it's possible that underwater it'd be strong enough to sense a fish’s electric field and sort of--guide a blind grab for prey.”

“Oh good,” Chuck says, fake-pleased, “you _did_ figure out what sirens eat! Good work.” Putting his hands on Alex’s bare chest, he shoves hard enough that Alex goes over backwards, flailing, and lands sprawling across a couch on his back. Chuck is on him before he can even struggle up, straddling his lap, shoving his shoulders back down when he tries to sit up, and Alex _hates_ how Chuck is so skinny and so strong at the same time because he's a fucking _vampire_ , it's not fair. Alex worked hard as a cadet to get strong and fast and it's useless against Chuck because sirens don't specialize in strength, they're supposed to be all about guile.

“Let's do some testing,” Chuck says, and Alex barely catches a breathless groan before it makes it out. The intent way Chuck’s eyes are narrowed behind his bangs, the amount of attention focused on Alex is--he's not used to it from Chuck. _Wants_ it, but never gets it, not like this, not like he's an interesting experiment.

Chuck shifts a little and Alex _does_ groan out loud this time as Chuck’s bony ass presses into Alex’s hard-on. Grabbing Alex’s wrist, Chuck ignores him except for a faint smirk.

“Can you feel this?” he says, bringing his palm up close to Alex’s hand without touching, so the fizzing from his datascreen implant tingles gently on Alex’s skin. “Oh, actually, close your eyes.”

Alex gives him a suspicious look and Chuck rolls his eyes so hard his whole head moves. “What, am I going to take the opportunity to rip your throat out?”

There's nothing wrong with being paranoid around someone who hates you, but Alex isn't actually worried about homicidal impulses as much as mean tricks. Saying so will only ensure that said tricks happen, though, so he glares and then closes his eyes, trying not to roll his hips up into Chuck because he can already hear the scorn he'd get for not controlling himself better.

“Can you feel this?” Chuck says. 

The fizzing is stronger on one point than on the rest. “It's most noticeable on the outside of my index finger,” Alex reports.

“Okay. Now?”

The sensation moves around his hand, sometimes closer, sometimes far enough away he can barely feel it, and Alex reports on it without opening his eyes. Focusing on sensations doesn't exactly help him ignore his neglected dick, and finally he gives up and rocks up against Chuck, who grunts.

“What's wrong, Harley, I thought you liked science,” he says, just as mockingly as Alex expected, but just a little breathless.

Alex bares his teeth, opening his eyes. “Maybe if you were doing science to my _dick_ right now I'd like it more.”

“I don't know,” Chuck says, pretending to think about it, “is it electroreceptive?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “It could make you feel like fireworks were going off, is that good enough?”

Chuck laughs in his face, which is pretty much what Alex expected, but still really annoying. “Oh, what, you feel like sensitivity testing would return more worthwhile results in a different location?”

Alex’s hips jerk because oh, _god_ , sensitivity testing, yes _please_ , Chuck could test exactly how sensitive Alex’s dick is, that would be _fine_. “ _Nnh_ , fuck off,” he pants. “Like you're not just as hard as I am.”

Chuck isn't listening, though. “Wait a second,” he says, drawing little patterns in the air above Alex’s palm, a ticklish moving fizz that makes him squirm and gasp. “Don't you have other receptor sites? Just your hands seems kind of limited.”

Alex’s ear fins flick involuntarily and he huffs. “Just my ears.”

“Yeah, thought so,” Chuck says, and his weight shifts as he leans forward to reach, getting a moan out of Alex. Chuck snorts. “Speaking of sensitivity,” he says, and brushes fingertips over Alex’s fins, and Alex gasps and twitches all over as the voltage in Chuck’s fingers comes into contact with apparently _way more sensitive_ receptors. It's kind of like being shocked, except not bad.

“ _Nngh_ ,” Alex says, hands scrabbling and landing on Chuck’s narrow chest, where the tingle under his fingers is fainter. He doesn't know if he wants to shove Chuck away or what, so he just clings to Chuck’s shoulders and tries to figure it out.

“Huh,” Chuck says. “Okay, so if I--” His palms slide up to cover the fins and Alex makes a strangled noise, his whole body jolting at the massive input, static filling the space in his head where thoughts should be.

“Huh!” Chuck says, and pulls his hands away a little, head tilted in intrigue. “Now that is really fucking interesting.”

Panting, Alex twitches faintly. Being an interesting experiment should almost certainly not be a turn-on, but it's a kind of validation he's never had before. It's not just that Chuck doesn't _mind_ he's a siren, Chuck thinks he's _scientifically intriguing_. It keeps Alex from quite managing to speak up in complaint as Chuck moves his hands closer and farther away or draws patterns in the air with his fingertips to see if Alex can identify them by the moving prickle on his skin.

He notices the sensation is about equal from both hands, despite the fact that the datascreen implant is actually in Chuck’s palm while the plasma weapon in his other arm is farther back in his forearm. The weapon has enough charge to make up the difference easily.

Alex tries not to think about the weapon, because he _knows_ Chuck fucking designed it with resources he could get down here, and it's sleek, streamlined, brilliant biotech, and it just about drives Alex crazy with resentful admiration. What could Chuck have instead if he'd had Deluxe resources when he'd drawn up the plans? The answer would probably make Alex even crazier.

Finally the fizz of Chuck’s fingertips splits and draws a line down each of the three tines of one ear fin, from the center pulling out, and Alex shudders, letting out a shaky noise.

“Fascinating,” Chuck breathes, and Alex’s hips rock up into him because _oh_.

He's almost dizzy with want and irritation and the unaccustomed input, gasping for breath, and he pushes Chuck’s shirt up, trying to get at skin.

Chuck squeaks and bats at his hands, then grabs his wrists, long, crooked fingers wrapping too far around. “Cut that out!”

Alex bucks up against him again, twisting at his wrists until Chuck lets them go. “Take off your shirt!”

“No! Fuck you!”

Alex huffs, glaring at him. “What, you're allowed to see me but I'm not allowed to see you? Seriously?”

Chuck’s lips pull back. “Right, because I want to see the face you make! Forget it!”

Alex frowns at him, hips rocking again distractedly, hands resting near the top of Chuck’s thighs. At first he thinks it's kind of funny Chuck is so sensitive about being skinny and not built when he's stronger than Alex anyway, and then his eyes widen in realization.

“All that tech you got put in--you've got scars, don't you.”

Chuck scowls back, crossing his arms over his chest, big ears twitching in agitation. “Nice deduction, genius,” he snaps. “I'm a fucking vampire, we scar up really easily by nature. _Obviously_ it left scars.”

On the one hand Alex could take this opportunity to throw Chuck’s own words back in his face, _I already know you're a_ cyborg, _it's not like it's going to come as a shock!_ But on the other, he's too distracted by wanting to see the results of the brilliant project that's the main reason he admires Chuck in the first place.

“Let me see!” he says, staring up at Chuck.

Chuck’s face twists up. “What, you like scars or something?”

“No, it's your project, dumbass, let me see it!” He tugs at the bottom of Chuck’s shirt again.

“You can't see any of it on the outside!” Chuck protests, but by the flush in his cheeks Alex is getting through.

“Yeah,” Alex snorts, “like I didn't memorize the blueprints, come on. I know what's there.”

“Fucking-- _fine_ ,” Chuck growls, face bright red, and strips off his shirt.

For about two seconds, Alex almost laughs. Not really because anything about this is funny, which it’s not—but _geez,_ Chuck is _so skinny_. His hipbones jut out, Alex can see the delicate struts of his ribs under his skin. Alex puts a hand on Chuck’s hip, traces a scar in the soft hollow next to it. 

“You can stop staring now,” Chuck says hoarsely, and twitches as Alex rubs a thumb into the scar on the opposite side. “Get out of there, dude, you have no idea what you’re poking around in.”

“This is where they accessed the sacral plexus,” Alex says, and Chuck blinks, opens his mouth, closes it again. When he presses hard into each scar both of Chuck’s legs twitch, his hips jerk, and fuck _yes_. “I told you I read your papers, you _asshole,_ I looked at your plans, I know… everything.”

Chuck makes a tiny noise like a chirp crossed with a growl, darts down and _bites_ at the other side of his neck _._ Alex sucks in a breath at the sting, but Chuck only drinks for a second or two, a couple of deep draws, before he pulls back and licks the wound closed, groans like he just ate something delicious. 

“You don’t know _anything,_ ” he growls, hot and wet and close against Alex’s neck. His voice is kind of slurred, maybe because his fangs are fully extended now, long enough to glint against his lower lip at the edge of Alex's field of vision.

“I-I know—you don’t have enough to eat down here!”

Chuck twitches and pulls back, cheeks flushing. “Oh, fuck you! Some people don’t put on muscle like—”

“How many calories does your conversion system use for your plasma weapon?”

“Twelve hundred per shot,” Chuck says immediately, distracted from his anger, and then catches his breath and tenses as Alex reaches out and traces a finger down the scar that bisects Chuck’s chest, from his collarbones down to just above his navel. “Hh—! What are you—”

“There’s gotta be a way to make that more efficient,” says Alex, and presses a hand flat, closing his eyes, trying to feel the center of the buzz of power under Chuck’s skin. “… _There._ They put it higher than you did in your sketches.”

“Creep,” says Chuck, but his back arches at the touch, his voice wobbles ever-so-slightly. “It’s good the way it is. For one thing, you're totally ignoring the added caloric load from the blood, which contributes a lot more than it would to a non-hemovore.”

Alex isn’t listening. He’s staring, fascinated, imagining the neat sketches from Chuck’s proposal superimposed over the bare, freckled skin in front of him.

“We could redesign you,” he says, breathless at the thought, and follows the scar back up again, feels the steady, fast spark of electrical impulses in Chuck’s chest. Spreads his hands over the pale skin, pressing, testing the resistance of polymerized ribs. Darts his fingers up Chuck’s sides to find perfect, round injection scars over every rib. “We could leave some of it—” his fingers find scars, counting up, “—hepatic, renal, the cardiovascular implants, wow—so, that’s where they did the spinal augmentations… and _this—_ ” 

“I’m _nnh_.” Alex’s fingers trace the scars up the soft insides of Chuck’s forearms, and Chuck gasps and loses track in the middle of a word, shivering. “ _Hh_. I’m not going back to the operating room.”

“You could put Deluxe tech in here, though!” says Alex, and when he presses his hand against Chuck’s forearm his whole palm tingles. He traces up and down long, vivid scars, listing them off as he goes. “I could upgrade the power conduit, I developed some new polymers that could carry twice as much charge, the targeting system, the data-screens—”

“Yeah, just put _more_ scars on top of this mess,” Chuck snaps. “I said _no,_ you pushy douche!”

“Who _cares_ about the scars?!” 

“Gee, I fucking wonder?!” Chuck’s shoulders roll, Alex can _see_ him resisting the urge to spread his wings. “I do, dumbass!”

“You mean you think _Mike_ does,” Alex sneers, and it’s a stab in the dark but it makes Chuck flush in fury. 

“Don’t bring Mike into this!” 

“We should ask him what he thinks!” Alex says wildly, and Chuck’s mouth drops open, and the dumbfounded look on his face is so _satisfying._ “—Hey, M—!”

Chuck’s hands press over his ears, flatten his fins against the side of his head, and Alex’s voice strangles off into a pathetic little clicking whimper as the buzz intensifies into that electric crackle that's so hard to think through. Chuck shifts his hands just enough to let Alex hear clearly when he growls, “You say a _word_ to him about my scars, you just fucking dare--”

Alex lets out a furious hiss and grabs for Chuck’s throat, digging in his nails--and Chuck’s hands go slack, his chin tips up as he gasps and makes a breathy little chirping noise, back arching. Something sharp on the sides of his neck triggers instincts for if another vampire wants to bite him, Alex realizes dazedly. That's really unnervingly hot--or, no, _Chuck_ is what's hot. His instincts are… _useful_. Alex is going to remember that little trick.

Chuck shakes himself out of it a second later, flushed and annoyed, but Alex has collected himself by then, sliding his hands up Chuck’s stomach to his chest, making him shiver. “He's never seen them, has he,” Alex says, slightly smug that he gets something Mike doesn't, and annoyed with Chuck at the same time for being such a coward.

“Shut up,” Chuck snaps, baring his teeth, and yeah, Alex is pinned under a vampire, very scary, except he's learning how to deal with said vampire.

“You know he wouldn't give a fuck,” he says scornfully. He doesn't really expect much when he flicks his thumbs over Chuck’s nipples--his own don't do much for him--but the snarl twisting Chuck’s face turns into a high, startled yelp and his hips jerk. Alex goes hot all over.

“You little shit,” Chuck gasps, panting, “don't--you don't get to mess with those.”

“Bet I can guess who you're saving them for,” Alex says, breathless himself as he rubs them again, and the noise Chuck makes this time is a lot like a whimper. Alex is going to treasure it doubly because immediately after making it, Chuck grabs Alex’s wrists and slams them down by his shoulders, snarling in his face.

“Leave Mike out of this, you prick.”

“Why?” Alex says. His heart is pounding from that snarl, the deadly teeth so close, but he refuses to be intimidated by this asshole any more than he can help. “Because you're too much of a coward to say anything to him?”

“Oh, _I'm_ a fucking coward? That's pretty rich, Deluxe,” Chuck sneers. “I'm not the one who practically needs to hold Mike’s hand to even step outside down here.”

“Yeah, and you've been here a while, haven't you!” Alex snaps, jerking uselessly at his wrists. “Anyway, I didn't mean in general, I meant about this! You don't dare talk to Mike, it's pretty sad!”

“It wouldn’t _help_ anything, dumbass, you think I haven’t--simulated it, _comprehensively_ , ha--not all of us forget all our analytical skills as soon as somebody touches our dicks!”

Alex’s hips twitch and Chuck stops, goes still. At first Alex tells himself it's fine, he's safe, his hips have been shifting a lot, it should be good enough camouflage. Then Chuck smirks, slow and fangy and unnerving.

“Seriously?” he says, almost more amused than scornful, and Alex is blushing already because that look is _knowing_. “ _Comprehensive simulations_ really doing it for you, huh? Autonomic responsiveness, _check._ ” He grinds down and back, hard and nasty, and laughs a nasty, snorting laugh when that makes Alex hiss between his fangs. “God you’re easy.”

“Let go of my fucking wrists and I'll show you who's easy,” Alex snarls.

Chuck curls his lip. “Manual stimulation is pretty basic compared to verbal, is that all you've got?”

“ _Nngh_ , oh, you want a verbal stimulus?” Alex pants. His vengeful grin is half snarl. “How much do you wish Mike was here watching this? How much do you want his teeth on your neck, huh?”

Chuck growls at him, but he's gone so red his shoulders are flushing, so Alex keeps talking.

“I wonder if you'd rather have him pinned like this, or have him hold _you_ down--he could, couldn't he, wer are physically pretty powerful--”

“Shut _up_ ,” Chuck snaps, and kisses Alex hard and vicious. “Like you’re-- _hh_ , not gagging to be in the middle of it!”

God, Alex has been really trying not to think about that. The idea of him pinned between Chuck’s fangs and hissed curses and Mike’s warm hands and easy-going grin--but letting himself shudder and gasp like he wants to would be admitting defeat, and he’s not going to lose this. 

“--W-want him to pin your wings--against your back and bite your neck and--” Alex wrenches a hand free of Chuck’s slackened grip and pinches one nipple, hard. Chuck yelps and grabs at his wrist again, but his hips definitely rolled against Alex’s that time. Alex keeps talking, relentless, breathless at the image he’s describing. “--Mess with your nipples, bite those too, right, I bet he’d make you his freakin’-- _mate_ , if, if you asked him, _hnn_ \--! But you won’t, you _coward!_ ”

“Fuck you,” Chuck snarls, “ _shut up!_ ” Hands like iron bands around Alex’s wrists, he lunges down and bites Alex’s neck high under his jaw, a burning sting just above his top gill slit that turns into that creepy pull as Chuck drinks. He draws back a few seconds later and his breath smells like blood as he hisses in Alex’s face, “You don't have a fucking clue, okay, just stop acting like you know more than I do about Mike! He's not into me, he'll never be into me, and you might be hot, for a total asshole, but you'll get him over my ashed corpse!”

Alex stares at him, bewildered and furiously exasperated. “How,” he gasps, “can someone _so smart_ be _so_ fucking stupid?! He _likes_ you, he's known you forever, he _trusts_ you, which is a hell of a lot more than I've got going for me--”

“Yeah,” Chuck says over him, “and I think I'd _know_ if he had the slightest fucking interest in me! Forget this,” he adds abruptly, and shoves both Alex’s wrists over his head, pinning them with one hand against the arm of the couch. Going up on his knees, he wrenches at Alex’s waistband one-handed. It seems to give him some trouble, and Alex isn't helping, twisting and struggling to get his wrists free, choking on panic. He's suddenly aware of how wet he is below his dick, how vulnerable he'll be naked and held down like this, and he knew they were headed towards _something_ this whole time but he'd thought it'd be hands shoved down pants, or just grinding on each other. He hadn't expected this.

Lips twisting in a snarl, Chuck gets Alex’s pants open and hauls them and his underwear down like Alex isn't fighting him at all. And then he stops, frowning at the base of Alex’s dick, and leans back to stare between Alex’s legs, which Alex snaps together. Chuck rolls his eyes and wedges a knee between his thighs, rough and bruising, forcing them apart so he can keep looking.

“Fuck you!” Alex growls, flushing hot all over with humiliation. “Stop staring! You're the one talking about how we're not monsters and deviants--”

“You don't have to be a _deviant_ to be different enough to be interesting,” Chuck says almost absently, and then, “So what--are sirens not sexually dimorphic?”

“Aren't you the expert on deviants?” Alex sneers. “Shouldn't you know the answer to that?” He wrenches at his wrists again, bucks to try to get Chuck off-balance, but Chuck just shifts his weight and firms his grip. Alex almost whines out loud with how infuriating it is to be helpless, stripped and pinned and stared at. ( _Interesting_ , he said, but Alex knows what that translates to in this case: freak.)

“First, I don't have to be an _expert_ to know more than you,” Chuck says, “and second, given that sirens are pretty rare, the details of their reproductive system are not actually widely known, _obviously_. So, do _you_ know?”

“Wha--of course I know, I _am_ one!” Alex says.

“Right,” Chuck says dubiously. “I mean, you're such a bastion of acceptance and knowledge about your species. Range of electroreceptivity, diet--”

“Shut up,” Alex snaps. “ _Yes_ , we're dimorphic, I am male, thanks!”

“With…” Chuck says, and waves a hand vaguely to indicate the wet slit below Alex’s dick where a human guy's balls would be.

“That's where the female's ovipositor goes,” Alex says, face going hotter. “Or did, before we developed to the point of using contained incubation spells instead.”

“Huh,” Chuck says. He's still staring. In fact, when Alex recovers enough from being humiliated and pissed to take a closer look at his expression, he looks kind of… fascinated, flushed and dark-eyed and fixated. Which is… different from what Alex expected. His stomach does this weird warm flutter and his back arches a little. He never thought of anyone getting turned on looking at his freakish anatomy.

“You could make a killing in porn,” Chuck mutters, and leans over to nip sharp and hot at Alex’s neck, drinking and licking the bite closed and biting again lower, growling distractedly. “Why do you taste so _good_ , you fucker…”

Alex twists and snarls under him, jerking at his wrists again. “Stop _biting_ me, I only have so much blood!”

“Gimme a break,” Chuck scoffs, indistinct with his lips against Alex’s skin. “Haven't even taken a pint, you won't even notice yet.” He reaches down and casually brushes knuckles down Alex’s dick and Alex moans loud and startled. Chuck makes a smug little chirping noise and bites him again and Alex snarls, bucking up against him, grinding against the bulge in Chuck’s jeans, the material rough against his dick. Chuck lets out a gasping groan and licks enthusiastically at the spot he just bit, then sits up, bright-eyed and flushed, staring between Alex’s legs again.

“Wonder if you can fit a dick in there,” he says, reaching down to rub a finger over slick, sensitive skin as Alex jerks all over, gasping. Chuck’s grip on his wrists has loosened in distraction, and when Alex frantically wrenches his arms this time they come free. He shoves Chuck in the chest as hard as he can, which at least makes him rock backwards, hands flailing as he's taken off guard.

“No!” Alex says, loud and shaky, squirming to get out from under him, but Chuck is kneeling on Alex’s pants, trapping his legs from the knee down.

“What, you tested it already?” Chuck says in a dubious voice, grabbing for Alex’s wrists. He keeps missing, so it takes him a few tries to recapture them, but when he does he pins them against Alex’s chest with one hand, and goes back to what he was doing.

“No I didn't test-- _stop_ it!” Alex says. A fingertip strokes along his slit, nudges just inside, and Alex goes rigid, eyes stinging with panic and humiliation. He squeezes them shut, takes a shuddering breath and slams the full power of his voice into Chuck. “ _Get off of me!_ ”

Chuck lets go of his wrists and Alex opens wet eyes to see the uncoordinated floundering as Chuck clambers off him to stand there dazed. Alex takes the opportunity to scramble into the corner of the couch, hauling his pants up. Pressing into the solid back and the big round arm of the couch, he buries his face in his knees.

He's still hard, still wanting, and he hates his body, and he hates his brain for being obsessed with this jerk, and he's leaking tears like an idiot, and if Chuck notices Alex is going to die. Or kill him, that's a possibility too.

“Gnh,” Chuck says as the influence wears off, and then huffs angrily, and then--goes very quiet suddenly. Alex tries to dry his face on his pants without looking like that's what he's doing and glances up. His stomach drops. Chuck is staring at him, mouth slightly open.

“Oh,” Chuck says, and looks away, frowning, running a hand through his hair. “Shit. Uh.” He seems to hang up there for a minute, and Alex puts both hands on his buzzed scalp and hides his face again, forces his breathing slow and even so maybe he'll stop friggin’ _crying_ in front of the worst possible person to show that kind of weakness.

“I, uh,” Chuck says again, swallows hard. “What--what the hell is up with your blood, dude?”

“What does my _blood_ have to do with--” Alex starts, embarrassment abruptly tinged with affront. And if it comes to that, “--I told you to stop drinking it!”

“How was I supposed to know it’d do this?!” Chuck says, high-pitched with annoyance, and abruptly his wings come out, spreading a little out of time with each other. One knocks into the wall and Chuck hisses, yanking them close again, and now that Alex is paying attention that uneven movement kind of looks like…

“Oh my god, you're drunk,” he says.

“I _know!_ ” Chuck snaps. “Excellent comprehension there, Harley! Great job drawing conclusions from the presented facts! You’re such a--shit, look, I’m _sorry_ , okay?!”

“I’m--well, you just--” Alex starts, incensed, and then stops, stammering as the last couple of words register. “Wh-what?”

Chuck shrugs, skinny shoulders jerking awkwardly, not quite looking at Alex. He seems to be trying to smooth his wings down, and not having a lot of success. Now that he’s on his feet, Alex can see him swaying slightly, his wings twitching in ungainly little flutters like he’s trying to keep his balance. 

“You heard me,” he says. “You’re an asshole, and I can’t freakin’ stand your stupid smug face, but, uh. I wouldn't…” another shrug, smaller this time. A decisive flap of both wings. The delicate fingerbone of one slams into the couch and Chuck makes a little distressed squeaking noise and huddles in on himself, physically grabbing both wings with uncoordinated hands to keep them from going anywhere. 

Alex can’t help it; he has to laugh. Chuck scowls at him, still huddled down inside his wings like a ribbed leather cape, big ears pinned back. He’s really not a handsome guy, most things considered--it would kind of be better if he was, then at least Alex could have an excuse for the reluctant little flutter in his chest.

“You’re the _worst,_ ” he says, and Chuck slumps a little, opens his mouth to answer and Alex cuts him off. “--If--if you wanna… touch me… you’re not doing it with your jeans still on.”

“I’m not taking my pants off,” says Chuck immediately, but his eyes flicker down to Alex’s crotch again and his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. “Who says I wanna put my hands anywhere near your junk?”

“Literally you,” says Alex, half laughing and half pissed off. “ _Literally_ less than five minutes ago.”

“Oh. Uh.” Chuck blinks at him; big, batlike dark eyes under his mussed-up hair. Rallies a little. “--Fuck you.”

“What a comeback,” Alex says, and scrubs away the feeling of tight wetness around his eyes, baring as many teeth as possible when he grins at Chuck. “I’ll never recover from that one.”

“I’m not taking _my_ pants off while yours are still on,” Chuck counters, and bares his fangs right back at Alex--much thinner, longer and pink with blood. There's still a stain of Alex’s blood on his lower lip. “I’m not here to get off, I’m just here to eat.”

It’s such an audacious lie, Alex makes an undignified screechy kind of noise that would probably not sound out of place in an ancient deep-sea documentary. “Sure,” he says, and raises an eyebrow at the very noticeable boner Chuck is apparently trying to pretend he doesn’t have. “That sounds… extremely true, and believable!”

“I hate you,” says Chuck, matter-of-factly.

“I know, I know.” It doesn’t even really sting anymore, although it definitely still rankles. “Hurry up and get your pants off, already.”

Lips stubbornly set, Chuck eyes him and doesn't move until Alex unfolds to start tugging at his boots. Then Chuck huffs and goes to get his sneakers off.

Watching him struggle to keep his balance and stay on his feet while fighting his way out of his jeans does a lot for Alex’s mood. By the time Chuck leaves them in a pile on the floor, he's barely avoided falling over three times, and Alex can meet his furious blush with a smirk and pretend almost successfully that he doesn't feel exposed and stupidly vulnerable all over again.

For his part, Chuck glares, red-faced, and clumsily grabs his wings again to pull them around himself. Honestly Alex doesn't know what his deal is, since his legs are bony but not, like, embarrassing, and his dick is perfectly good. Very nice, actually, not that Alex was staring before Chuck covered up. (If Alex is abruptly feeling overheated, Chuck’s dick being out is definitely not why. It's just because they're getting close to having sex, that's all.)

Still, the only possible response to Chuck looking all self-conscious is for Alex to broaden his smirk, stretch a bit and relax into a sprawl, ostentatiously pointing up how lean and fit and sexy he is (at least, ignoring the scales and gills and so on). It pisses Chuck off enough to forget about holding onto his wings, hissing as he stalks back to the couch, which Alex counts as a win. Climbing on to kneel over him, Chuck leans down for a rough kiss and makes a hungry noise, fangs digging into Alex’s lip and breaking the skin again. Alex growls and is getting ready to shove at him as he sucks on the fresh cut when it occurs to him that this could be an advantage. After all, the more impaired Chuck gets, the easier it'll be for Alex to be the one actually in control.

So instead of pushing him away, Alex contents himself with grabbing Chuck’s ass and getting in some quality groping. Chuck growls, but he's distracted enough drinking that it takes him a second to pull away, and then it's only to bare his fangs distractedly at Alex before ducking down to bite Alex’s throat under the jaw again as Alex hisses. It's a spot he bit before, Alex is pretty sure, and wonders irritably how big a scar he's going to have.

Chuck’s hips rock, grinding down, rubbing their dicks together. Alex bites off a moan and slides a hand between them over Chuck’s chest, casually stroking fingertips past one nipple. Chuck whines against his skin and then snarls, but he can't seem to gather himself to pull away, so Alex keeps rubbing and teasing.

“ _Nnh_ , fuckin’--quit it!” Chuck gasps, finally coming up for air.

“Oh, right,” Alex says with a smirk, not stopping, “I forgot, you're saving these for Mike.”

Chuck flushes red and actually seems speechless for a moment, mouth hanging open as he stares at Alex, body jerking and twitching as Alex’s fingers move. “I'm--no, he's not--son of a _bitch_ ,” he sputters, and tries to grab Alex’s wrist. His coordination is bad enough now that he keeps missing, and even when he finally catches it Alex is quick enough to twist right back out of his hold and laugh in his face.

“Having a little trouble?” Alex says, pushing upright under him, and before Chuck can manage more response than a growl, shoves him hard in the chest, grabs his thighs and yanks his legs out from under him. Chuck lands on his back on the couch with a yelp, his wings instinctively snapping in as he falls, and a second later Alex is straddling him.

For a second he's gasping open-mouthed under Alex, and uncertainty mingles with the hot triumph because Alex didn't even think about Chuck’s wings, which look kind of fragile, maybe having him land on them folded like that hurt them--and then he notices the flush spreading down Chuck’s neck, the way he squirms and pants. Apparently someone _likes_ being pinned down.

Grinning smugly, Alex leans over him and slides his dick against Chuck’s so he groans aloud, head falling back. “You look good on your back,” Alex purrs. His ear fins flare forward, challenging, taunting, and he doesn't even bother to control them right now.

Chuck’s snarl is half a moan. “You need to watch better porn, you dick,” he gasps, and wriggles, which only serves to rub their dicks more firmly together. “You're so lame-- _ah!_ ”

Alex tweaks his nipples again vengefully, watching the flush creep farther down Chuck’s chest under his fingers. “Right, _I'm_ lame,” he says. “ _I'm_ the one who's falling apart over the first little bit of direct stimulation--”

“No, _you're_ the one who loses it--” Chuck pauses to breathe, glaring with hazy dark eyes, “--the minute I start talking science! Put you in a room with anyone with a polysyllabic vocabulary and it's just-- _hahh_ \--instant boner city!”

“Not _anyone_ ,” Alex snaps, and then regrets it when Chuck blinks at him, doubt changing into startlement, and Alex doesn't wait for the smug look to follow, just lunges down to kiss him furiously. Chuck is distractible and kind of loud now, and definitely not as skilled at kissing as he was earlier, and Alex takes savage advantage of this, only pulling back when Chuck finally lets out a breathy snarl and tries to bite.

“Look at you,” Alex says, smirking as he rocks his hips forward again. Chuck moans full-throated, then clamps his mouth shut and glares dazedly when Alex snickers. “You're a mess, and I'm barely doing anything.”

“Fuck you,” Chuck pants. “I should start-- _hh_ \--talking experimental procedure at you! Mmh--bet you'd like that. See how long you can-- _unh--_ ” he breaks off into a long groan as Alex starts grinding with purpose.

Alex grins in victory. “Oh yeah,” he says, breathless himself, “you should definitely try to lecture me right now. That sounds hysterical. Come on, Professor, let's hear about, ohh, how bout the mating habits of werewolves!”

Chuck’s overheated flush darkens across his cheeks and to Alex’s delight, he bucks once before he gets control of himself. “Fuck you!” he says, half groan and half snarl. “I'm not giving you _tips_ for your--ffff--your fucking campaign to seduce him!” He's hissing and slurring on the sibilants, and Alex is weirdly turned on by the evidence of just how out of it he's getting.

“You're so paranoid,” Alex scoffs. “I don't have a _campaign_ , and if I did I wouldn't need tips. Fine, though, let's try something you won't make any embarrassing mistakes on! The mating habits of _vampires!_ For instance--” he leans forward on Chuck’s chest, pushing him down harder against the couch, and Chuck makes this husky little chirp, head tilting to one side to expose his neck. Alex swallows, hips moving a little faster against Chuck’s, getting back a mixture of chirps and moaning with the occasional curse thrown in.

“Right,” Alex says, voice hoarse. “I was going to ask if being held down was a personal kink or a vampire thing, but I guess it's not just you.”

Chuck’s annoyed groan sounds more like a whine. “It's not--about being held _down_ ,” he gasps. “ _Nnh_ fuck, you _bastard_ \--’s my _wings_ , wings’re pinned, can't spread them. Triggers-- _hhh_ \--mating instincts.”

“Good to know,” Alex breathes. He can't believe Chuck actually told him that, admitted a turn-on without a fight. Man, he's _so_ out of it.

Heat winds higher through Alex, thrumming in his blood as he moves against Chuck, holding him down, _winning_. It's so good that he hitches up a little higher, grinds his slit up Chuck’s dick, slick and wet and needy. He and Chuck both gasp, Chuck’s hips bucking up helplessly, and Alex grabs them, pins him down and does it some more. It's so _good_.

“Well, come on,” he says, breathing hard. “You're obviously not at your _best_ , but you've gotta be able to string words together enough to explain yourself. Vampire mating instincts, go. Come on, should I be biting you or what?”

Chuck whines, squirming against his hold. “ _No_ , you shouldn't be--biting me, you're not-- _ahh_ a fucking vampire!” He pants and moans for a minute, eyes glazed, then makes an effort and mumbles, “You wouldn't even know how to…”

Alex snorts when he trails off into a hoarse groan. “How to bite you? It's not that complicated, dude. Penetrate skin with teeth, I did it before.” He leans down as Chuck is growling, trying to say something, and bites his lip, licks the blood away. Chuck moans, sounding half annoyed and half not at all.

“ _No_ , not how to bite, you don't,” he waves a hand vaguely and almost smacks Alex in the face as Alex straightens up. “You can't close it afterwards,” Chuck says, and sucks on his own lower lip for a moment. It comes out flushed red and a little swollen from use, not bleeding anymore. “‘S not safe,” Chuck goes on. “ _Mmh_ \--you bite me in the wrong place, I'd bleed out if I couldn't close it myself.”

“Well, I wasn't planning to rip your jugular open,” Alex says, nettled. He makes a mental note that biting _is_ a turn-on, then puts it at a low priority because _he's_ not a freaking vampire and he's not really into blood.

“Anyway, vamp sex doesn't require biting,” Chuck says, “just _hhh_ holding the wings pinned.”

“Mm, yes, that data point’s been established,” Alex says, and if he’s too out of breath to manage a drawl he can still be patronizing enough to get a satisfactory flash of fangs from Chuck. “Can you remember anything _else_ about your own species?”

Chuck hisses at him, an irritated inhuman noise, and Alex smirks back. “I know a lot more--about _mine_ than you do about _yours_ ,” Chuck gasps, and loses words again, writhing.

“Prove it then,” Alex says, ruthlessly rubbing against him. “Educate me.”

Chuck manages a distracted snarl, but he's moaning too much to get words out for a few minutes. It's ridiculously hot how far gone he is, how hungry and desperate for Alex’s touch.

“ _Ah, ah,_ uh, oral--fixation, vampires have-- _hnn_ \--a thing for, um, stuff in their mouths,” he gets out, and then he keeps _going_ , mumbling details about vampire turn-ons between whimpers and groans. Alex never expected that to work, but it seems like Chuck is so focused on meeting his challenge that in his distracted state he hasn't realized yet how he's giving himself away. Holy shit, this is amazing.

Alex lets him go for a while, taking mental notes and watching him fall apart every time Alex speeds up or grinds down harder, and then he decides to step it up.

Chuck stops talking entirely, cutting himself off with a shocked moan, when Alex grabs the dick he's been grinding on and kneels up to fit the tip against his slit, pressing cautiously down with his lip caught between his teeth. He's played with it himself, put a finger or two in there, but he's never tried to fit anything the size of a dick inside before, and isn't sure it'll actually work. He has no idea how big a female siren’s ovipositor is, and never realized not knowing might be a problem.

“If you thrust up right now,” he says tightly, “I'm gonna kill you.”

“Holy-- _fuck_ ,” Chuck says, gasping for breath, and actually holds still, hips shivering.

Everything is so slick down there that when Alex finally lines up right and pushes, the head of Chuck’s dick just pops in, a tight, hot stretch that has Alex freezing and breathing carefully. He refuses to stop as soon as he's started, can't admit to failure this soon, but that's-- _really_ not comfortable, hell--

“ _Nnh_ ,” Chuck says, hazy eyes fighting to focus again. “‘S really tight, shoulda--stretched first, idiot,” and before Alex can snap at him, one uncoordinated hand gropes up for Alex’s dick and starts stroking.

Alex lets out an incredibly undignified sort of wheezing moan, hips twitching, then freezing still again. Chuck keeps stroking him and after a few minutes that stretch stops being quite so painfully fierce and becomes just intense sensation.

Alex takes a deep breath and lets himself sink down a little bit at a time, vengefully amused when Chuck whines and his hand jerks to a halt. Breathing slow and deliberate, Alex keeps going. The stretch doesn't hurt as much now, but it's still a lot, and when he gets all the way down he kind of sags, the air sighing shakily out of him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Chuck moans, hips twitching up, and Alex hisses at him, although a second later he realizes it didn't actually hurt. Chuck just rolls his eyes.

“Such a freaking _moron_ ,” he grumbles, running his thumb around the head of Alex’s dick so Alex groans. “Just like Mike, no forethought, no safety precautions, let's just… forget about moving slow, testing it out, just dive in and assume you won't _break_ yourself…”

It spurs Alex to rise up and sink down again, grinning meanly when Chuck whimpers and arches. “That's because we're _tough_ , we don't just code all day,” Alex says, and lifts up again because it feels better now, feels kind of _good_ , and maybe the spark of pleasure is why his brain skips tracks with _just like Mike_ , making him bite his lip as he starts to move faster. “You _wish_ Mike was made like me, don't you. Then you could think about pounding him multiple different ways, when you're not imagining him pounding _you_ \--”

“ _Hnn_ , shut _up_ ,” Chuck gasps, and Alex yelps mostly in surprise when his hips snap up. “Like you're not-- _hh_ imagining him behind you right now, working your ass open while-- _fff_ \--while I'm doing this!”

Oh _fuck_. Bringing Mike up again was a mistake. Alex chokes back the shaky noise that wants to come out of him at that mental image, but he can't keep his hips from bucking out of rhythm, his dick from twitching in Chuck’s loose grip. He bares his teeth as Chuck smirks breathlessly, and there's nothing left to do but speed up again, try to make Chuck come first.

“You're one to talk,” he pants, hands finding Chuck’s nipples and tugging at them, getting a yelp in response and a buck more like a full-body spasm. Alex can feel it inside him when Chuck’s dick jerks, can feel the warmth as it spits a little more precome. It’s so _hot_ , Chuck losing control like this, being so responsive. It pisses Alex off. He lets just a thread of power into his voice as he speaks, nudging Chuck higher, hotter, more desperate, keeps touching him hot and distracting so he won't notice the influence right away.

“I bet you wish he was on _your_ other side right now, yeah?” he goes on. “Pinning your wings against your back, his hands on your chest, playing with you like this.”

Chuck bucks again, moaning high and unsteady, clawing at Alex’s arms like he wants to push his hands away but can't quite manage to coordinate or focus long enough. Alex keeps rolling and tugging and pinching Chuck’s nipples, watching him get more desperate with every passing second. He hums softly, letting that subtle thrum under his voice get stronger, push harder.

“You're gonna come, aren't you,” he says smugly. Chuck is moaning on every breath, arching under him and shaking, hands fastened on Alex’s thighs. “That didn't take long. You're so _easy_ , geez.”

Chuck flinches, grip going bruising-tight on Alex, and suddenly he's shoving at Alex’s chest with shaking hands, making a choked noise that isn't hot at all. “ _No_ ,” he says, small and unsteady, “no, I--don't, ‘m not, sss-stop, _stoppit_ \--”

He's got to be seconds from coming, but he's not moving with Alex anymore and his gasps for breath sound more like sobs and that's--not what Alex was trying for at all. Bewildered, he stops moving and when Chuck shoves again he carefully pulls off, climbs off Chuck.

Chuck immediately tries to scramble off the couch, almost falls, wings flailing, and sways dizzily on his feet before toppling back onto the couch and curling up with his wings wrapped tight around him. His breath hitches and shudders and Alex can't tell if he's crying or just close.

...Well, shit. Alex was trying to piss him off, get the better of him and _win_ so he could smirk down victoriously at a bleary, annoyed, post-orgasmic Chuck. This was definitely not the plan.

He swallows, shifting uncomfortably. Everything between his legs is wet and slick and hungry, his dick is dripping-hard and throbbing, but his stomach is curling in on itself with creeping guilt and he doesn't even know what he _did_. Chuck’s acting pretty different from a sore loser, so what the hell?

“Hey,” he says uncertainly, and then stops, unsure what to say.

Chuck pulls in a shaky breath. “I'm not _easy_ ,” he says, muffled and choked. “You--you were fucking _cheating!_ ”

Alex stares at the bowed blond head a minute. “Well, _yeah_ ,” he says, exasperated. “Of course I was fucking cheating! Hello, you've got superior strength and speed and everything, and I've got my voice and that's it! How the hell else am I supposed to get the better of you?!”

“You're such a _dick_ ,” Chuck snarls without lifting his head, and sniffs hard.

That's not the voice of a guy who's about to uncurl and let the sex start up again. That sounds more like someone who's about to grab his stuff and walk out, possibly after decking Alex. Alex rapidly reevaluates.

Yeah, okay, he was cheating, but they've both been playing dirty this whole time, it couldn't have come as a shock. To have messed things up like this, he must have hit a sore spot.

Shit. Okay, okay, he can fix this.

“You're not easy,” he says. It comes out awkward and kind of huffy, but whatever, he said it. “Come on, dude, if you were easy you would've come in your pants like half an hour ago.”

Chuck growls. Right, yes, probably the wrong angle to take.

“Considering that you're _drunk_ , your stamina is kind of ridiculous,” Alex says irritably, letting that slender thread of power back into his voice, not to excite this time but to calm and soothe. Using it worked, after all, even if the result had unanticipated side effects.

“Seriously, geez,” he goes on, “you're like the _opposite_ of easy, I was just saying that to get to you. I mean, piss you off, not, uh, like this.”

Chuck lets out a shuddering sigh and his wings shift, relaxing from their tight curl around him, and Alex silently exults. It's working!

Then Chuck’s head snaps up, his wings spread, one almost hitting Alex in the face, and Chuck whirls on him, tear-streaked face furious. “You sick _fuck_ , if you think you can use your voice to force me back into sex with you, I'm gonna make you--”

“What, _no!_ ” Alex yelps, hastily dropping the power. “No, I wasn't--I just wanted to calm you down, okay, make you not upset anymore! You can feel it, can't you, feel the difference--I wasn't turning you on this time!”

“Leave my emotions the fuck alone,” Chuck growls.

“But it was making you feel _better_ , wasn't it,” Alex pushes. “It wasn't my voice that was the problem before, it's what I said, right?”

Chuck bares fangs at him, scrubbing his hands across his wet face, his eyes. He doesn't contradict Alex, though.

Yes, so. Alex looks away, picking at a worn place on the sofa cushion under him. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn't mean to, um, make you… Anyway. Look, let me fix it, okay?”

“By letting you manipulate me again, yeah, brilliant idea!” Chuck says. “After all, you've shown yourself to be _so_ trustworthy!”

“Oh come on!” Alex says, stung. “Like you haven't made mistakes here!”

Chuck glares.

“I wasn't trying to _hurt_ you!” Alex says, his face heating as he fumbles to explain. “I didn't know it'd bug you like that, I thought you'd just be mad! And it's not like we haven't been trying to one-up each other this entire time.”

Huffing, Chuck looks away, messing with the arrangement of his wings as they pull clumsily back around him. “I'm not easy,” he mutters again after a minute. “I can control myself.”

“No fucking kidding!” Alex snaps. He has to wonder who the hell got on Chuck for coming too easy in the past, left him with that raw nerve. Not that it's any of Alex’s business, but way to go, nameless past dickhead. Good job screwing up other people's good time.

“I still don't trust you,” Chuck says.

“Yeah, well, you should,” Alex says, cautiously feeding that skinny thread of power back into the words, but confining the effect to calming and easing again. “If we want to get off, neither of us can do anything the other hates _too_ much. Right?”

Chuck huffs again, but his wings slowly fold back behind him, his shoulders sinking as the tension eases out of him. Alex can't think of anything else to say, so he just hums quietly to keep the power flowing, hoping it doesn't snap Chuck back into snarling resistance.

Chuck goes still a minute, then tilts his head, ears flicking forward. Still relaxed, not turning on Alex. “Oh,” he says, sounding intrigued. “I can still think.”

“I'm not trying to _control_ you,” Alex grumbles. “It's easier to influence than control anyway. That's what it's really meant for.”

Chuck turns, shifts closer to kneel over him. Alex wishes _he_ was kneeling instead of sitting so Chuck couldn't loom so easily, but it'd be way too obvious to kneel up now.

“So what's it feel like?” Chuck says, and it sounds like a dare. “Using your power the way you're supposed to. Does it feel good?”

Alex swallows. It does, actually. He used to use it like this sometimes, usually nudging people to agree with him, let him have the funding he needed, let him do what he wanted. Of course using his power at all was illegal in Deluxe, but once he got subtle enough for it to pass unnoticed he thought he had nothing to fear. Then Mister Kane found out, Alex still doesn't know how. All he knows is that Mister Kane called him up to his office one day, grabbed him by the throat and told him that if he ever used his power again without orders, if Mister Kane heard so much as a rumor suggesting that he had, he'd have Alex’s vocal cords cut.

After that he only used it at Mister Kane’s command, usually at full power to control, not influence. He was too scared to use it on his own again, until he got down here.

It has no effect on Mike, he doesn't even notice, but Chuck--Chuck’s been calmed out of his miserable ball of limbs and wings, speculative and interested. And it _does_ feel good, power sliding through Alex, warm and silky and _right_. He kind of resents Chuck guessing that.

“Yeah,” he says, voice coming out hoarse. “It's good.” Vengefully, as he speaks he lets the influence shift from calm into heat and need, keeping it subtle in the hope that--

“Harley,” Chuck snarls. “I _told_ you--”

Dammit, why does he have to be so observant, it's a pain. “I'm not forcing anything!” Alex says defiantly. “Pay attention, is it _making_ you doanything? No!”

“You are _such_ a fucking--” Chuck cut himself off with a snarl, lunging at Alex to pin him against the back of the sofa for an angry kiss. Chuck’s dick is only half-hard, but it perks up fast as Alex keeps moaning, laying on his power a little stronger with every noise he makes. After a minute he gets his arms around Chuck, grabs his wings and pulls them in tight, trapping them folded against his back. Chuck lets out a shivering chirp and breaks the kiss to gasp for air, whimpering.

Alex hums, smug.

Chuck gasps in another breath and growls. “Fine! You want me turned on? Here you go, fucker!” He brings his arms up inside Alex’s to break his hold on Chuck’s wings, then tugs, trying to get Alex on his back again, but Alex has had enough of that. He shoves back, using Chuck’s drunken clumsiness against him, and for a second he's winning. Then Chuck yelps, losing his balance, his hands close tight on Alex’s arms and they both topple off the couch.

Alex lands half on Chuck, who's really too bony to make a cushioned landing, bangs a knee on the floor and swears. He squirms off Chuck, who lies there muttering curses for a minute. His wings have dematerialized again, and Alex spares a second to be curious if he let them go on purpose or if they just went, and whether being drunk is affecting his control over their presence as well as their movement. It's not like he'd _tell_ Alex if asked, the dick.

Alex isn't sure sex is worth this much trouble. Planting one hand on Chuck’s chest, coincidentally right on one nipple, he shoves himself up and stands, enjoying the outraged squawk.

“Son of a bitch,” Chuck grumbles, sitting up himself. It sounds like normal bitching, not an imminent threat, which is why Alex is surprised to find a foot hooking his ankle, hands shoving him hard sideways, and before he realizes he needs to fight back, there's a hard hand on the back of his neck forcing him down, bent over the thick round arm of the couch.

“Listen to that,” Chuck says, leaning his weight on Alex’s shoulders, shoving him down into the cushions as one foot kicks Alex’s legs apart. “Your heartbeat just spiked, and given where your blood’s concentrated, it's not fear. I didn't realize you liked being held down that much, Harley.”

Alex bares his fangs and snarls uselessly as Chuck wrestles his arms behind him, pinning his wrists in the small of his back with one clumsy but still vampire-strong hand. He's not about to explain that especially for a drunk guy, the move that got him here was unexpectedly smooth. The position he's in is effective, too: held like this, he doesn't have much leverage to struggle, he can't pull free, and Chuck is behind him anyway, out of easy reach. He doesn't think of Chuck as a fighter, even though he is, _has_ to be down here, and Alex isn't about to admit how… impressive the reminder is. (Chuck is supposed to behot because of his _brain_ , not anything else, dammit.)

“Maybe since I'm out of view, you're pretending I'm Mike,” Chuck goes on, his free hand moving to Alex’s ass and squeezing, sending a wave of heat through him with anger lagging way behind. “In which case I'm about to totally break your immersion, because Mike is a nice guy who'd never do this.”

Alex tenses, jerking against Chuck’s grip, then shivers and goes still as a fingertip runs over the slippery heat of his slit. The finger presses inside, long and crooked and bony, and Alex bites back a moan, hips twitching. Chuck snorts a laugh.

“You better appreciate my restraint in not saying anything about aquatic lifeforms and how wet you are,” he says, still snickering, and Alex groans at him.

“I might appreciate it if you hadn't just _done_ it,” Alex growls, and moans as Chuck pumps that finger into him a few times.

“The question is,” Chuck says thoughtfully, pulling it back out, “do siren men have a prostate?”

Alex hasn't quite grasped the implications of the question when that slick fingertip presses against his ass, rubbing in little circles that make him gasp and stiffen, waves of hot prickles sweeping over his skin. His heart starts trying to beat its way out of his chest and he's panting, ear fins pinned back, caught between hot want and anger and yeah, okay, fear of what Chuck might be planning. Alex isn't sure at all that he wants a dick in his ass, but he sure wants something _somewhere_ \--

“Well?” Chuck says impatiently, and Alex realizes with a shock that he’s waiting for an answer, not just pushing in. And that, that's better; if he's going to give Alex the chance to protest instead of just doing whatever he wants, Alex can relax a little.

“I don't--probably?” he stammers in answer to the actual question, and squirms against the arm of the sofa only to have more of Chuck’s weight land on him. He groans in frustration and says, “We have internal testes, we produce semen; the fluid must come from somewhere, so logically-- _ah!_ ”

“Cool,” Chuck says, and strokes that one finger farther into Alex’s ass while Alex is still gasping, trying to surround the sensation. His dick twitches and between his legs there's a flush of warmth as a few drops of slick seep out of him. No matter how confused he is about this, his body definitely likes it.

“Let's see,” Chuck says, and Alex jerks all over as that finger rubs across--holy shit, so _that's_ his prostate. Heat washes through him with the jolt of pleasure and his dick throbs. Chuck does it again, again, and Alex bucks his hips and whines, abruptly needing more too much to care about dignity.

“Okay,” Chuck says, sounding kind of hoarse, “I guess that's a successful experiment. God, look at you, you fucker.”

Alex isn't sure what he means, but it doesn't matter because Chuck’s dick nudges between his legs. Chuck absently lets go of Alex’s wrists and Alex doesn't bother to try anything beyond pushing up on his elbows because Chuck’s freed hand is guiding his dick up against Alex’s slit, pressing forward into him and fuck _yes_.

They both moan together. Chuck’s finger is still in Alex’s ass and Alex thinks he's forgotten about it, will pull it out at any moment, but as Chuck starts to move, hips rocking into Alex, his finger flexes and rubs too, sharp little sparks of pleasure snapping up Alex’s spine. Alex claws at the couch cushions, crying out, and Chuck huffs a breathless laugh that trails into a moan.

“Look at you all desperate for it,” Chuck pants, “squirming on my dick. A guy could almost forget what an amoral, reprehensible bastard you are.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Alex groans, “you are _literally_ \--in the middle of fucking me. _Mmh!_ Can you stop being a bonerkill for _five minutes?_ ”

“Oh, right,” Chuck says, “like anything could make you-- _hahh_ \--not desperate for me right now.”

Alex makes a breathless scoffing noise, because even if everything Chuck’s doing feels amazing, he's not letting that one go unchallenged. “I think we've proven pretty conclusively,” he gasps, “that we have a mutual talent for-- _mm_ \--managing to ruin this, no matter how desperate-- _hh--_ or how close we get.”

Chuck huffs and stops talking, which Alex takes as an admission and victory. A minute later Chuck makes a thoughtful noise. Alex gasps as one ear fin suddenly prickles with that electric fizz, Chuck running his finger along one tine. Next he traces along the outside edge of the fin, the buzz of sensation all the more startling with the pleasure of everything else that's happening, and Alex shivers, whining shakily.

Chuck keeps messing with that fin, tweaking it, tugging at the tines, every brush and poke a staticky shock that Alex is sure he shouldn't like. Somehow in the overload of sensation, Chuck's dick in him and the finger working his prostate and the fizzing static overwhelming underused senses, it ends up feeling good. The finger in his ass only moves when the one on his ear fin falls still, Chuck’s coordination isn't good enough right now to do both at once, but with everything else it's enough to get Alex sweating and moaning and shuddering back against him, so close but not quite _there_.

He reaches for his dick, but it's trapped on the other side of the sofa arm and walled off by his thighs shoved hard against the arm, and he can't push back to get some space with the steady pounding Chuck’s giving him. He can't reach, can't touch, and he _needs_ it.

Whimpering desperately and flailing back a hand is the best he can do so far as notifying Chuck of the issue, though.

“What,” Chuck pants, and then, “oh. What, this isn't enough?”

Alex groans in frustration. “Obviously not!I can't--ah, need to--”

“So fucking demanding,” Chuck grumbles. The static on Alex’s ear fin stops and Chuck pauses just long enough to haul Alex’s hips back a few inches and shove his hand into the space to grab Alex’s dick. He doesn't have the focus to stroke it steadily at the same time as his hips are moving, and the finger teasing Alex’s prostate has gone still again, but Alex is so close all he needs is Chuck’s thumb rubbing over the head of his dick and he's gone, white lights bursting behind his eyes.

He's vaguely aware of Chuck muttering something like, “ _God_ you're loud,” but it's not important, not like the aftershocks that shudder through him as Chuck keeps moving. It takes another few minutes for Chuck to finish, by which point Alex is wrung out, twitching faintly with overstimulation. Chuck is thrusting fast and erratic and finally goes still with a choked yelp that is objectively hilarious. Alex smirks blearily to himself.

Breathing hard, Chuck drops both hands from what they were doing and slumps over Alex’s back, the added weight shoving him down against the arm of the couch, which may be padded and upholstered but is definitely not cushioned enough to be comfortable. Alex is too loose-limbed and fuzzy with afterglow to complain about it yet.

“Mmf,” Chuck says, shifting, and his dick slips free, which is a weird sensation Alex is maybe not completely keen on. Oh man, he's so wet and squishy between the legs now, agh.

“Dammit,” Chuck mumbles.

“What?” Alex says, annoyed. _He's_ the one with a whole new squish factor to deal with, thanks to Chuck _coming_ in him. A worn out shiver goes through him at the thought. God, this is so amazing. It's crazy; he just had _sex_ with--

“I can't believe I just had sex with _you_ ,” Chuck says. He tries to lever himself up by shoving off of Alex’s back, overbalances, and barely keeps from falling over by grabbing for the back of the couch.

“ _Oh_ ,” Alex says, pushing vengefully off the couch and staggering a little from the head rush. Man, everything down there feels--not sore, exactly, but _used_. Kind of quietly thrumming, all the nerves awake.

He could be hurt, could get angry at Chuck for being such a graceless jerk after Alex let him do things literally no one has ever done to him before. He could, but it'd be dumb, especially when Chuck is so drunk he's swaying hilariously on his feet. Alex isn't dumb, and it's much more fun to channel all of that into needling Chuck.

“You'd better believe it,” he says with an edged smirk, heading for his clothes, which are tangled with Chuck’s on the floor. “You have a _crush_ on me, remember? You couldn't keep your hands off me, you--”

“That is _not_ what happened,” Chuck complains blearily.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Alex says. He looks over to see Chuck's wings manifest again before Chuck staggers around the couch, loses his balance and topples over onto the cushions with a startled squeak. Hauling pants and underwear up his legs, Alex watches in sharp amusement while Chuck struggles to get out of the soft embrace of the cushions, fighting the sofa and his own uncooperative limbs. Finally he gives up and settles into a little ball, wings wrapping clumsily around him, dark eyes blinking sleepily through his bangs.

“You suck,” he mutters, scowling at Alex, and his gaze reminds Alex to reenable the illusion that makes him look human. He gives Chuck a defiant smirk as he does it and Chuck lets out a tired, disgusted hiss.

“What is _wrong_ with you--” Chuck starts, and is cut off as someone pushes open the door to the rec room, a familiar voice saying, “Guys, are you fighting in here--?”

Mike steps through the door and freezes, mouth open, widening eyes flickering between half-naked Alex, the clothes scattered across the floor, and naked, tousled, wing-wrapped Chuck, for a long, eternal second. Alex is just as frozen, caught between hot uncertainty, the edge of something shy and thrilled and hopeful, and overwhelming relief that he already raised his illusion again. For his part, Chuck goes scarlet and wide-eyed with a strangled chirp. His wings shift and start to unfold and then he obviously remembers he's naked and snaps them back around himself, almost falling over sideways on the couch.

Mike breathes in, nostrils flaring. Alex is just about to say something, maybe that they weren't fighting, when Mike says, “Oh,” his cheeks flushing, and his fur-tipped ears flick once before he whips around and strides back out, moving fast. “Sorry!” comes the rapidly receding call.

Chuck stares after him in open-mouthed dismay for a long moment as Alex hurries to get his boots on.

“Oh _no_ ,” Chuck says, and raises his voice pointlessly. “Mike! It's not--we're not, like…” He trails off, belatedly realizing that Mike's long gone, and groans, dropping his forehead to his knees. “Dammit, Harley, he's gonna think we--he'll get the wrong idea!”

“What idea,” Alex shoots back, “the idea that we just had sex because your feelings for me are so passionate you couldn't hold yourself back--”

Chuck’s shriek of rage is more of a loud groan with a hiss on the end. He unwraps his wings, glaring at Alex, and tries to clamber off the couch with just as little success as the first time. Alex eyes him with a superior smirk, picks up the tattered remains of his own shirt and considers it. Then, as Chuck angrily flounders, Alex picks up _his_ shirt and tugs it on. It's tight in the shoulders and a little in the chest, but better than wandering around half-naked, with the added bonus that when Mike asks, Alex can sheepishly explain that Chuck literally ripped his shirt off and it's unwearable now. Possible sympathy points!

“That's _my_ shirt, you dick,” Chuck mumbles, and when Alex looks over again he’s stopped struggling and his eyes are drooping shut. “Y’r such an asshole, stealing my shirt.”

“Uh-huh,” Alex says, “yeah, I'm definitely the bad guy here, instead of, say, the guy who tears up other people's clothes. _That_ makes sense.”

“Fuck you,” Chuck says, slurred but distinguishable. “Fuck off.”

Alex snorts and can't help grinning. “No problem!” he says with vicious cheer. “You have a nice nap, I'm gonna go have a chat with Mike!”

“Muh?” Chuck says, and flails clumsily, eyes dragging open to give Alex a groggy glare. “Don't you dare,” he growls. “Stay away from Mike!”

“Make me,” Alex taunts, and strolls out the door with Chuck hissing behind him. The possibility exists that it'll be enough motivation to pry Chuck out of his drunken post-coital stupor to follow Alex. Even if he does, though, as clumsy as he is right now, it'll take him a while just to get dressed, and Alex is betting he'll shy off to get another shirt and cover up his operation scars. Either way, Alex is going to get to Mike first and be the one to explain things, tell _his_ story before Chuck can put some kind of unfortunate slant on the whole thing.

After all, Alex needs all the sympathetic spin he can get if he's ever gonna have a chance with Mike.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Unexpected Booty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17770169) by [BirchBow (chaoticTenebrism)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticTenebrism/pseuds/BirchBow), [LaughingStones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones)




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